


Katoh

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus Stories [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Boundaries, Complicated Relationships, Crying, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Intimacy, Kink Exploration, M/M, Mild Kink, Safewords, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 05:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Dorian wants to test if Bull reallywillhonour this safeword he's so insistent on, every single time.





	Katoh

“Wait. Stop.”

The Bull’s hands were an iron grip on Dorian’s waist, keeping him in place, and Dorian felt his blood run sharply cold. He wished, not for the first time, that he had more alcohol in his veins, but except for the first night, he almost never managed to tumble into bed with Bull if he was too drunk. Bull always seemed to trick him into going upstairs whilst he was still nearly entirely sober.

“Bored of me already?” Dorian asked, doing his best to keep the jagged edge from his voice.

“We need a watchword,” Bull murmured, putting his palm on the centre of Dorian’s chest, and Dorian inhaled sharply. It was not the first time he’d been offered a watchword, by one partner or another. It was rather galling to hear it from the Iron Bull, but then, Dorian could hardly expect even something close to perfection from a Qunari brute.

“Oh, do we?” Dorian asked breathlessly, with an amused smirk. “So keen to ignore the word _stop_, are you?” Bull narrowed his eye, the grip on Dorian’s hips relaxing slightly, but then Dorian felt them draw away, retreating, and he shot to grab him by the wrists, holding them in a vice grip. “No,” he said. “Don’t.”

“It’s not about ignoring the word _stop_. You want to say the word _stop_, you can, and we’ll stop. The watchword, that’s for… If something cuts at you. No explanations, no talking about it, not if you don’t want. You say the watchword, and that’s it, we stop whatever we’re doing.”

“No explanations?” Dorian repeated.

“No. Listen, I don’t know what kinda experience you have of sex, where you came from, or of magic, or whatever. For all I know, there’s some stuff that makes you feel like you’re gonna crawl out of your own skin, ‘cause you’re remembering something else, something horrible. You need a quick release out of that.”

“And what sort of _dreadful_ thing were you planning to do to me, that might make me so reminiscent of past traumas? Does this mark a return to that little rape fantasy of yours?” There was venom in Dorian’s voice he didn’t really mean to inject, particularly remembering how Bull had caught his arm after that interaction, had apologised to him in _Tevene_, he was so desperate to put across…

Bull looked hurt, and Dorian swallowed the guilt and grief that burned in his chest at the expression on his face. It was a low blow. He knew it. Low blows were rather Dorian’s area of expertise by now, weren’t they, between giving and receiving?

“I already said sorry for that,” Bull said softly. “Are we okay? ‘Cause if you want, we can—”

“We’re _fine_,” Dorian said, tightening his grip on Bull’s wrists again, tightly. “Fine, fine. Fine! Watchword, very well, alright, if you think it’s so crucial.”

“You want to pick it?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Katoh, then. You don’t normally talk Qunlat in bed.”

“Well, perhaps you haven’t found the right places to kiss yet,” Dorian murmured, stroking his fingers gently over Bull’s chest, the other one retaining its place on his wrist. “Katoh. That means… Superb? Thing without par?”

“Ending,” Bull murmured, but he was smiling, like he always did when Dorian showed any knowledge of Qunlat whatsoever. “It means ending.”

“I see,” Dorian said softly, and pulled Bull down to kiss him.

\--

He didn’t expect Bull to actually _stop_. He merely wanted to see, before he really _needed_ to, precisely what his excuses would be for not stopping, how he would reason with Dorian to go back to his place, what he would offer Dorian to keep going. Dorian knew how this watchword business went – it was a smart feint, but that was ultimately all it was. And Dorian? Dorian was more than capable of some feinting of his own.

It did hurt. It was a rather marvellous hurt, truth be told – the reed came down with the most delicious _thwack_ against his skin, leaving a burning heat that radiated outward, and stung right to the very core of the flesh on his arse, oh, and the bruises he would have, the bruises!

“_Katoh_,” he gasped out, and Bull didn’t even _hesitate_.

The reed dropped to the floor, the ties at his wrists were undone, and Bull had Dorian in his lap rather than over it. It all happened so quickly that Dorian’s head rather spun, his head leaning in against Bull as he stroked Dorian’s back. Slow, comforting, easy strokes, as though Dorian were truly in need of comforting.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bull said. “You okay? I hurt you too much? I got a balm here, you want me to rub it on, or do you want me to let you go?” So quiet. So _smooth_.

“I want to sit here for a moment,” Dorian said dumbly, glad his stunned face was hidden against Bull’s neck, and not where Bull could see it. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Bull murmured, stroking a circle into his lower back. “I don’t mind.”

Oh.

\--

Experimentation was a matter of slightly altering one’s perimeters each time, to see what changed. What stimuli might affect one’s result, what stimuli might not. Dorian allowed it to settle, for a time, allowed himself to think it over, but—

Well, obviously, Bull hadn’t been that concerned about the whipping, then. He waited, the next time, until Bull was fucking him with Dorian out on his back, and every now and then he’d press on Dorian’s throat, just add a little bit of pressure. Dorian liked a bit of pressure, but sometimes, Bull tightened his grip, made him _choke_. It wasn’t the end of the world. It wasn’t especially to Dorian’s taste, but it wasn’t unbearable…

But it was something he could happily do without.

“Katoh,” he gasped out when Bull squeezed tightly, and the rhythm of Bull’s thrusts stopped.

“Okay, got you,” he said, spreading his hands. “No more choking. You want to stop?”

“_No_,” Dorian said, aware of how _bratty_ he sounded when he bit out the word, and he felt a little colour flush his cheeks as Bull looked down at him, his expression anticipatory. “Perhaps— Would you mind if I was on top?”

“Sure,” Bull said, and he loosely gripped Dorian’s hips as he flipped them over, carefully tugging Dorian to straddle his lap, and he gave him a smile that actually made an excited heat run up his spine. “This okay?”

“Yes,” Dorian murmured. “Thank you.”

Bull smiled. “No problem.”

\--

Bull grabbed him from behind in the corridor and shoved him hard against the wall, a knee pushing between Dorian’s thighs – it was something he’d done half a dozen times before, and something that actually made Dorian’s whole body set alight with desire, but this time, he bit out, “Katoh!” against the stone walls.

“Shit, sorry,” Bull said, letting him go. “I won’t do that again.”

He didn’t, either.

It was almost disappointing.

\--

Bull pulled his hair just slightly too hard, and when Dorian moaned, “_Katoh_,” Bull massaged his scalp in apology, pressed kisses against his face and said that he was sorry, babe, won’t do it again. It was almost… _infuriating_. The too-hard bit was the nice part of having his hair pulled, sometimes, he wanted…

\--

It was grating, somehow.

Bull stayed true to his word – he never asked for an explanation, never asked for Dorian to detail precisely why he’d used the word. He was all but letting Dorian walk all over him, holding this little release over his head, even for things Dorian was alright with, that they’d done a dozen times before.

He wanted Bull to _realize_.

How could he be such an idiot? How could he be such a fool?

If he truly cared about this safeword business so much, shouldn’t it grate on him that Dorian was playing with it so casually, with so little respect for it? Shouldn’t it make him angry, that Dorian was playing him as easily as the strings on an oud?

Dorian almost _wanted_ the Bull to lose his temper.

It was meant to happen. That was the whole _point_ of it, wasn’t it? Finding the Bull’s breaking point?

It was a rough night, and they tumbled into bed together with _need_ burning on their skin: Dorian gasped in Bull’s mouth, ached at the relief of it all, grinding himself down on Bull’s cock, and when Bull pinned him with his wrists above his head and really started to thrust in earnest, he waited.

This would be the moment, the time, he _knew_ it. The Iron Bull would lose his temper, Dorian would see if he was able to take it, and they would see where they stood, he would see how he fared. Bull’s temper certainly couldn’t be that bad, not when he was so gentle, but Dorian needed to _see_, he needed to _know_—

He waited until Bull was nearly on the edge of coming, battering into Dorian in the most gloriously indecent way, until he was almost over the zenith—

“Katoh,” Dorian said, and Bull gasped.

He let go of Dorian’s wrists and pulled back, his cock so hard it looked as though it _hurt_, and Dorian stared at him, waiting, waiting. Bull didn’t say anything, didn’t even _touch_ his painful-looking erection, until he looked to Dorian and said, “Sorry. Holding your wrists down too hard?”

“No,” Dorian said shortly. “Just wanted to stop.”

“Okay,” Bull said.

“You don’t want to continue?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“You look as hard as marble.”

“I can take care of it. Sorry,” Bull said. _Sorry!_ Sorry! And he reached for the towel slung over Dorian’s bedpost to cover himself up, swinging his legs over the end of the bed, but Dorian grabbed at his wrist.

“Aren’t you _angry_?” he demanded.

“No,” Bull said evenly.

Dorian moved to his feet, standing furiously before the Iron Bull, and the Bull’s expression didn’t change, didn’t even show irritation, and it was _infuriating!_

“What does it take?” Dorian demanded. He looked ridiculous, he knew, sweaty and still half-hard with Bull dripping down his thighs, but he didn’t _care_, he didn’t care. Bull stared up at him, not saying anything and Dorian _shoved_ him, hard, in the chest, but he didn’t even flinch. “Hm? I’m going mad, waiting, just— just _do_ it.”

“Do what?” the Iron Bull asked, arching his eyebrows.

“I just used your _precious_ watchword and there was nothing wrong. _Nothing_. I just— you were on the very _edge_, and I stopped, just because I could, so don’t you dare pretend to me that you aren’t angry with me. So, what is it, what are you going to say? That I’m a bratty, spoilt prince of Minrathous? That I’m a— What?”

Bull said nothing. His face didn’t change, he just looked _expectant_, and Dorian let out a growl of frustration. He felt so on edge he could scarcely stand to take it, his skin all but vibrating, and he punched at Bull’s chest, punched again, and again—

Bull caught his wrists.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Bull said softly. “Chill out.”

“What does it take?” Dorian demanded, and he was humiliated at the pitch of his voice, at the crack in it. “When will it come? When? _When_!?” He heaved in a gasp, and the tears burned at the corners of his eyes.

Somehow, it was the way Bull _smiled_ at him that made him start sobbing.

He tried to shove Bull off when Bull pulled him closer, but he was too busy breaking into pieces, and Bull let out a low noise, drawing Dorian into his lap and burying his face in his hair, squeezing him, touching his back. “Let me go!” Dorian snapped, even as he clutched_ at_ him, at the warm heat of Bull’s body.

“You know the word, sweetheart,” Bull said, and Dorian shuddered as Bull cradled him against his chest. He couldn’t move. He knew, if he said the word, if he did, Bull would let him go, he would, he _would_, but—

Dorian didn’t know for how long he let himself be held there, crushed into Bull’s lap. Until his eyes stopped streaming with tears, anyway, until they dried on his cheeks, his chin pressed against Bull’s shoulder, nose against his neck.

“I know,” Bull rumbled, eventually, in a low, sweet voice. _Kind_. “You wanted me to lose it at you. I knew that almost from the first time. I won’t, though. I won’t. See? You use that word whenever you want. Doesn’t matter when, doesn’t matter why.”

“You bastard,” Dorian whispered, leaning back. “Haven’t I made a joke of you? _Comforting_ me when I take your watchword and—”

“Hey, Dorian.”

“What?”

Bull cupped his cheeks, leaned in, and kissed his nose. Dorian was so surprised he hiccoughed. Bull brushed his knuckles over the side of his jaw, and said, seriously, “Am I suffering a case of huge blue balls right now? Sure. Do I wish you felt like you coulda just trusted me from the start on the whole watchword thing? Sure do. But, hey. Now, you know that if you tell me to stop, _no matter what_, I’ll stop. Can I count on you to tell me what you need, if you need it?”

“I don’t deserve this,” Dorian said, in a tiny, breathless voice. “You’re wasting it on me.”

“There’s nobody else I wanna waste it on,” Bull murmured.

“You fool,” Dorian said. “You— You mindless, _idiotic_…” Bull was smiling at him. Dorian kissed him so savagely he could barely stand it, clutching as tightly at Bull as he dared. “Won’t you please fuck me again?”

“As hard as you want,” Bull murmured, and—

By the Maker, he _did_.

Later, when Dorian was laid out on the bed, fucked boneless and exhausted, Bull leaned in beside him, and said, “You happy? Not with tonight. With me.”

“You’re going to make me start crying again,” Dorian mumbled against the pillow. “Haven’t I embarrassed myself enough this evening?”

The Iron Bull kissed the small of his back.

“I’m immensely happy, Bull. So happy I might just die.”

“Well, don’t do _that_. I’d look like such a perv, carrying your corpse down the stairs.”

Dorian laughed, reaching blindly back for the other man and pulling him down to cuddle, until Bull was lying on top of him like a ridiculously big, heavy, muscular blanket. “I’m sorry,” Dorian said softly. “For not trusting you.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could,” Bull said to the back of his neck, making of a kiss the full stop, and Dorian closed his eyes, relaxing further beneath the Iron Bull’s body. “What do you say I spank you ‘til you cry tomorrow?”

Dorian hesitated. “I actually— if you don’t mind, I do prefer the reed. To the palm of your hand, I mean.”

“Is it that my hand’s too warm? Or the width?”

“Er— Well, I don’t know.”

“Would you like a paddle?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. I like the reed.”

“Okay.”

“If you really want to paddle me, I—”

“No,” Bull said. “Just trying to figure out what makes you tick, that’s all. I wanna know what you like.”

Dorian pressed his lips together. His eyes were closed, and he could feel the heat and weight of the Iron Bull’s body, and it was so _nice_, he did enjoy it, he did… “I like you, Bull,” Dorian said, rather hurriedly, all in one breath.

“_Aw_,” Bull said. “You _like_ me.”

Dorian elbowed him in the chest, and Bull laughed as he dragged Dorian closer, letting Dorian relax in his place.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr,](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) to talk about DA in general, and definitely to recommend blogs to follow! I am open for requests (for Origins, II, and Inq). I also run a no-drama Dragon Age Discord, which [you can join here.](https://discordapp.com/invite/ttgP5v8) Please comment if you can!


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